Take My Heart & Soul
by Little Inquisitor
Summary: He was going home, that was what he convinced himself to do as he exited a deserted bar. But where was his home? Was it the empty apartment in between Fourth Ave and the Sixth, or was it a woman, who was enjoying her date with another? At the thought of the latter, short laughter escaped him, his heart far from being in it. / RoyAi. One-Shot. Sad Roy, though... so warning.


**A/N:** As unrealistic as the situation may be - because let's face it, Mustang and Hawkeye are each other's person - I had this angst playing in my mind a few nights ago. I wasn't exactly planning on writing it straight away, but after agreeing to exchange fics with Sarah (queenwinry on tumblr), I immediately started it. It's been a long while since I last wrote anything heavy with angst and drama, so I was actually really worried as to how this would have turned out. Especially the dialogue! Bloody struggled with that, actually?

But without further ado, I hope you enjoy this one-shot! Don't forget to leave a review; they're very much appreciated!

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There was something unspoken about the winter air within the East City walls, something to which the drunken man could barely describe. It was calming, more so as the feeling of numbness ran through his fingers and his toes. However, he knew that there was much more to it than he could comprehend. Perhaps it was the way it nearly made him forget the ache within him, the pain that had taken place somewhere in his chest and called it its home. Or perhaps it could have been the number of drinks he had that night, but he shook his head at the notion and told himself that he was perfectly fine and was far from the edge.

He hadn't appeared so intoxicated either; just a man who was enjoying a stroll during an ungodly hour. But Roy Mustang was a man who had mastered the game of facades, and was more than skilled enough to hide the truth to his character when it suited him.

So yes, he was drunk; his focus a haze, his mind a mess, but he knew where he was going as he walked through the empty streets. He followed a path he knew quite well, to a destination that was entirely committed to his memory through more ways than one. Or at least he believed so.

He was going home, that was what he convinced himself to do as he exited a deserted bar. But where was his home? Was it the empty apartment in between Fourth Ave and the Sixth, or was it a woman, who was enjoying her date with another? At the thought of the latter, short laughter escaped him, his heart far from being in it. Then again, his heart was never with him to begin with, as it was with the woman for as long as he could remember.

He had unknowingly given it as a whole, and once upon a time, he surmised that she had done the same. It was the basic belief of equivalent exchange; the well-known law of alchemy. And he, as an alchemist, nonetheless, lived by those words. But it seemed like he was proven wrong at some point, because of all things considered, it was more than obvious that her heart was not his to keep.

So many emotions dwelt in his core, just as how so many unanswered questions ran through that head of his. He was supposed to be a genius, the epitome of brilliance, an erudite- he was the Hero of Ishval, the man who climbed the ranks too fast for his age. And yet there he was with his gaze dropped to the pavement, sadness claiming the colour of his eyes. He looked so wrong, he felt wrong too, though he could not bring himself to blame anyone else for the pain he was drowning in.

He waited far too long, assumed that he still had time, that she would have still been there at the end of the line. The universe, however, had other plans and the joke was on him. God, what a fool he was.

A selfish fool.

Roy knew that he should have been happy for her, even if it meant that her happiness did not mean him. He had acknowledged it long ago that she deserved someone better; someone who had not betrayed her trust, someone who did not remind her of a war, someone who saved her life rather than a broken man who was constantly dragging it into harm's way. The woman he loved was in a good place, and he should have been content with such a simple fact. But the truth was the truth, and he was anything but. He was miserable, surrounded by darkness and living under a grey cloud.

And so he walked, and he walked, and he walked, the chill of winter biting at his nose and his cheeks. How does one escape the dark when the sun had left?

Everywhere he went, the whispers were there. There were the looks, the rumours that just did not stop. It all began as a simple matter, the idea that a doctor had plans to court the brigadier-general's adjutant. It became a joke in the office, and at first, the woman in subject had no means to hold it in any form of regard. But everyone saw that the man was quite serious in the way he'd send in flowers, until he suddenly came to seek the captain for a dinner.

Of course jealousy had struck Roy immediately, and he was more than tempted to step forward. But noting that she deserved a break and that it was most likely a one-time thing, he merely held his tongue.

The action was evidently a bad choice, for dinners happened again, and numerous times after, leading to the words of engagement to reach his ears.

And that was when he had finally felt the soles of his feet hit rock bottom.

Everyone looked at him with confusion in their glances, wondering as to what his thoughts truly were. He kept to himself about the matter, albeit letting out a casual smile here, and his usual shrug there. _"The Captain is in warrant of a happy ending, we should all just congratulate her."_ Was what he told them. Even his 'sisters' heard of the talk, a flash of pity in their eyes whenever an Elizabeth was mentioned by someone who was uninformed. Still, he posed the image that he was truly all right, although those who knew him also knew otherwise.

How long he walked for, he could not say, but at the end of the night, he was climbing up a set of stairs. He counted the floors as he passed them amidst his daze, till he stopped in front of a certain door. He stared at it, his chest empty, yet heavy; his shoulders slouched in spite of being overcome with familiarity. He fished his key out of his pockets, but when it came to unlocking the door, it would not turn. He cursed under his breath, thinking that what he held in his hand was the key for the car he had left behind.

"What. A. Fucking. Idiot," He called himself, banging his head against the door in defeat, one word after the other, "Can't even get yourself into your own apartment."

He was just so tired; beyond exhaustion as everything pulled back to port. He hadn't been this bad since Hughes, but even then, he still had her: the only constant thing in his life.

To which will become not so constant anymore, for she's been ripped out of his grasp before he even got a chance. He thought himself pathetic, all the while hating the man who stole the person he once called his.

Roy was supposed to be the one to show her the endless love and affection that he always did have for her. He was supposed to be the one who'd wake her up with kisses, who'd whisper sweet promises into her ear in the warmth of their bed. He was supposed to be the one who'd hold her hand as they took a walk through the park, letting Hayate chase the butterflies that would have caught his attention. He was supposed to be the one who'd wake up in the middle of night, just to soothe the cries of a child. _Their_ child.

Roy was supposed to be the one to take her as his wife, to have and to hold, for better and for worst, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death did them part.

He was supposed to be the one, as she was the only one for him.

Drunk and alone with his thoughts, Roy was about to sit himself down onto the floor when the knob turned and the door was pulled open. A slightly dishevelled blonde peered at him from the other side, surprise entirely too transparent in the eyes that had watched over him for so long. He was surprised as well, so to speak, because what in the world was his captain doing in his apartment? He mirrored her look through his own bleariness, blinking to clear his view.

"Sir, are you okay?" She asked, concern loud in her voice.

"What are you doing here?" He returned.

There was a pause as Hawkeye scrutinised him, a crease between her perfectly lined brows; question evident in her expression. She then stepped out and closed the door behind her, holding onto the robe that she wore.

"Did you go out drinking with the boys again, sir?"

He shrugged, "Possibly, I don't really remember. But what are you doing here?"

"This is my apartment."

Well, that certainly said a lot.

As realisation dawned on him, Roy released a breath, then a scoff. His gaze dropped to the floor, eyes closing without a single reply. So this was where home was- it was where his legs had led him to. What a joke. The place he considered as home wasn't even his own, and there he was, standing before her like a lost dog. He should have apologised and bid his goodnight, but his mind was awake and he couldn't stop what he said next.

"Please tell me you didn't say 'yes', Hawkeye."

"Sir?"

"That- that man, I believe that he asked for your hand in marriage. Tell me that you didn't accept the proposal."

"I..."

"Goddamn it, Hawkeye!" He looked at her then, albeit too fast that the world suddenly turned and he stumbled back before regaining his footing. He saw her move forward, hands reaching out to steady him, but he lifted up his palm and breathed. No, he wasn't allowed to feel her touch, lest he was willing to lose the small control he had left.

What a shameful sight he made; face red from the alcohol, his hair unruly from the amount of times he ran his fingers through it during the night. Then to add to the list, he had just shouted at his captain even though she was far from being at fault. He shouldn't have been there in the first place, but it was where his heart was and it seemed like his mind wanted it back; as if he was ever going to get it back.

Roy looked at the woman again, stared as he searched for words to say.

 _I'm sorry_.

 _Don't go to him._

 _Please don't leave me._

 _I don't want to lose you._

 _I can't lose you._

 _I've always loved you._

 _ **I love you**_ **.**

It was Hawkeye who broke the silence, however.

"Sir, would you like for me to walk you home?"

"Please don't marry him." Was the answer he gave. As short and concise as it was, it was no more than a whisper; a plea as others would have called it. "Don't do it, Riza."

If he hadn't been so intoxicated, he would have noticed the effect that her first name had on her. He would have seen how her eyes widened slightly, her hand tightening its hold on her bathrobe. It was her turn to stare at him, keeping up a mask of coolness. But after a moment or so, she swallowed faintly and spoke.

"Roy, I don't think we should discuss this matter right now."

"Really? Because I think that this _is_ the best time to talk about this."

"No, it's really not. You're not in the right state to organise your thoughts and this discussion is over."

"Riza, if you would just listen to me-"

She cut him off there, the sharp edge of a knife heard in her tone, "You're drunk; you don't even know what you're saying, let alone will remember when you wake up tomorrow."

"To hell I don't!" Roy finally snapped, causing for the other to steel herself as he chose to continue, "And even if I don't remember what I say tonight, I'll be fine as long as I say it. You need to hear this, Riza. _I_ need to say this, because if I don't..."

"Roy, don't do this."

"If I don't tell you that I love you now, when will I ever?"

A pause.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked.

Taking in a deep breath as he moved back against the wall behind him, Roy tried to clear his incoherent mind. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the stranger that the other might become once he said his piece. After all, he almost lost her once before, and was on the verge of losing her again. The fear sickened him to no end, even through his uninhibited state. But the truth was in dire need to be expressed, and everyone knew that a drunken man's words were a sober man's thoughts.

"Because I'm scared, Riza," He told her, "I'm scared of losing you."

He heard her step towards him tentatively, the sound of her footfall loud amongst the silence that had then fallen upon them. Still, he kept himself in the dark, finding comfort in it.

"I thought I still had time, I thought that this could wait until I reached my goal- I thought that you knew. But then the doctor came out of nowhere, and... I don't know. I wanted to stop it, though. I wanted to say something to stop him from pursuing you, but when I saw you laughing with him, I just couldn't take that happiness away from you.

"You deserve it. After everything you've been through, you deserve this happy ending, and who am I to stop you from getting it? I've asked myself this question so many times throughout these past several months, and each time I do, I never get an answer. I tell myself that I have no right to step into your affairs, that you're free to choose whomever you like. But at the same time, I realise that I'm as selfish as anyone and I start to hope that you'd find something you don't like about him."

Another moment of quietude, filled with nothing but a sigh from him.

"But seeing as to how things have turned out, that obviously didn't happen and now here I am: drunk, tired, wishing that I was the one who'd hold you, wishing that I was able to freely show my love for you whenever I choose to; wishing that I was that man.

"I love you, Riza Hawkeye. And the more I think about it, the more I know that I always did love you. From the first moment you opened that door back when I was just starting out my apprenticeship, and up until this very moment, I've loved you.

"I love your smile, how it's so subtle and hidden; it's been the same for as long as I've known you. I love the focus in your eyes, the way your eyebrows furrow together when something's in your mind. I love your determination, your courage, and your compassion. You are an amazing woman, Hawkeye; one hell of a woman, really."

And as he readied himself for his final words, Roy had set his gaze upon her. What he found was unexpected, however, as rather than meeting the amber eyes he loved so dearly, what he saw was a woman with her head down, her blonde hair a curtain around her features. She had a hand to her mouth, her shoulders seemingly trembling.

"I'm sorry for all of the times I've hurt you. You deserve someone better than me. But Riza, please don't go to him. Please don't leave me. I'm not... I'm not telling you this as your commanding officer, but I'm asking you this as the boy who grew up with you, who has only ever considered you.

"I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I can't lose you. It is not that I don't want to lose you, but it is more of the fact that I _can't_. I know that it makes me sound selfish and egotistical, but I'm far from caring about my image at this point. This is the truth of how I feel for you, and I just need you to know that whatever happens, I will always love you."

Unmoving from her spot, Riza did not respond, and Roy wanted nothing more than to envelope her into an embrace. For the first time in a long while, she looked so small, as delicate as he remembered her to be before the horrid of war. Oh, how he would have loved to go back to those times, when everything was simple and it was only the two of them in their world; no one else.

Just little Roy and Riza, the children who ran through open fields, the lake behind the trees being their destination. They were the children who walked under the moonlit sky, finally heading home after getting groceries from the nearby town. They were the youth who studied in candlelight together, secrets whispered between them. Just little Roy and Riza, the children who made promises to one another and were determined to keep them. Without a doubt, the promises were kept and new ones were made in their adulthood, forever binding them together.

Or maybe not.

"Riza?" Roy called, the silence suddenly becoming unbearable.

When she looked up, he was taken aback by the redness of her eyes, the tears that glinted under the hallway's lighting. He clenched his teeth together, his hands curling into fists. He had hurt her again, and she was crying because of him. What was wrong with him?

"You are such a complete _idiot_ ," Her voice cracked as she attempted to stifle her crying, causing for something within Roy to shatter, "Why couldn't you just listen to me? I _told_ you _not_ to do this, and yet you still continued to make everything so complicated."

Roy couldn't hide the hurt that quickly struck his expression, her words understood immediately. He didn't say anything, couldn't form a response that would not have led the entire situation to an argument. Despite being as inebriated as he was then, he was earnest enough to note that he had done enough damage for the night. And so, he pushed himself off the wall, hands in his coat's pockets and looked down on his polished shoes.

"You're right. Maybe it would have been best if I hadn't told you the truth, but you deserved to hear it, at least." With that said, he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, his eyes quite sombre in comparison to the strength in his voice, "You should go back in, Captain, I've kept you out here long enough."

At that second, the door opened and a man revealed himself groggily. He looked at Riza, who kept her back to him, before averting his attention to Roy. Traces of sleep was still visible across his chiselled features, and it did not go unnoticed that he was, in fact, shirtless. Roy nearly scorned at the sight of the other, vehemence growing in his being. Of course he was there, Roy wasn't even surprised anymore.

Besides that, if he weren't so in control, he might have set him aflame.

"Riza? What are you doing out here, it's four in the morning." The man asked, blinking the slumber away.

But before Hawkeye could answer, Brigadier-General Mustang spoke up, "I just needed to ask her a few things about the case. My apologies, I would have waited until later, but something urgent came up."

"Some of us do need to sleep, Mustang," The other countered, "Especially when Riza needs to rest after you make her work hard all day."

"Matthew," It was Hawkeye who raised her voice, "It's fine. I was all ready awake and the case is vital, so it was only right for him to come to me as soon as possible. Go back in, I'll join you soon."

Just when the man was about to open his mouth for another retort, Mustang cleared his throat in interruption and said, "I've extended my stay long enough and I've heard what I needed to hear. Besides, the doctor's right, you need to rest. Good night, Captain." He gave his adjutant a short nod, although not quite meeting her eyes. He then ignored the other man, walking past him as he made his way back to the stairs. He could feel their attention on him with each measured step, his mind blank, except for the acknowledgment of the gnawing ache throughout his chest.

What a fool he was.


End file.
